Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

T he satisfying crunch of bone beneath my fist reverberates through the gym. My sparring partner crumples, gasping for air. I step back, chest heaving, adrenaline coursing through my veins. It's not enough. The burn in my muscles, the sting of split knuckles—it's all just white noise compared to the thoughts churning in my mind.

Devin.

Her name echoes in my head like a siren's call, equal parts temptation and warning. I grab a towel, wiping sweat from my brow as I move to the tablet perched on a nearby bench. Security reports flicker to life, a digital mosaic of Viktor Kazanov's crumbling empire. Cyber-attacks, misinformation campaigns, financial discrepancies—all executed with surgical precision.

A smirk tugs at my lips. It's her handiwork, no doubt. The realization sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, arousal mingling with a hint of danger. Devin's not just a pretty face with a sharp mind—she's a force of nature, capable of toppling empires from behind a screen.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of sweat and leather fills my nostrils, grounding me. When I open them again, my reflection stares back from the mirrored wall. The man I see is hungry, not just for power or control, but for her.

Hours later, I step into the penthouse, the scent of garlic and wine greeting me. Devin stands at the stove, her back to me. For a moment, I allow myself to drink in the sight of her—the curve of her hips, the elegant line of her neck. She turns, a small smile playing on those tempting lips.

"Perfect timing," she says, lifting a bottle of wine. "Care to do the honors?"

I cross the room in measured strides, taking the bottle from her hands. Our fingers brush, and I feel her pulse quicken. She's good at hiding it, but I catch the almost imperceptible hitch in her breath. I lean in close, my lips a whisper away from her ear.

"My pleasure," I murmur, enjoying the slight shiver that runs through her.

We settle at the dining table, the city sprawling below us like a glittering carpet. Devin takes a sip of wine, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop on her lower lip. My eyes track the movement, heat coiling in my gut.

"When do you think it'll be safe for me to return to my apartment?" she asks, her tone deceptively casual.

I study her over the rim of my glass, noting the way her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the stem. The diamonds around the emerald stone on her ring sparkle in the low light. "You're eager to leave?"

"I appreciate your hospitality," she says, meeting my gaze. "But I miss my own space. Besides, it seems Viktor has backed off."

"What makes you think Viktor has stopped pursuing you?" I press, leaning forward slightly.

Devin pauses, and I can almost see the gears turning behind those captivating eyes. "Just a feeling," she answers after a moment. "Things have been quiet lately."

"A feeling?" I echo, my voice low and charged. "Or do you know something I don't?"

She shrugs, the movement graceful and practiced. "I've been keeping my ears open. Word on the street is that Viktor has bigger problems."

"Interesting," I remark, standing slowly. I move behind her chair, my hands coming to rest on her shoulders. I feel her tense slightly under my touch. "Considering how closely I monitor such matters, it's curious that you're better informed."

Devin tilts her head back, looking up at me. There's a challenge in her eyes that makes my blood sing. "Perhaps you underestimate my connections."

I lean down, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Maybe it's time you tell me more about these connections," I suggest, my voice a low growl.

She stands abruptly, moving toward the window. I follow, drawn to her like a shark to blood in the water. "You can't control everything," she says softly, looking out over the city.

I press against her back, caging her between my body and the glass. "Control keeps people alive in our world," I respond, my hands settling on her hips. "I can't protect you if I don't know the whole story."

"Maybe I don't need protecting," she whispers, but I feel the way she leans into me, contradicting her words.

Later as moonlight paints shadows across our tangled bodies, Devin's voice breaks the silence. "Do you ever feel trapped?"

I turn to look at her, struck by the vulnerability in her tone. It's a crack in her armor, one I'm all too eager to exploit. "What do you mean?"

"Like no matter where you go, you're confined by expectations, by the walls you've built," she explains, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

I reach out, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. "I know that feeling all too well," I admit, the honesty surprising even me. "Control can become its own kind of prison."

Devin sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it—the secrets, the constant vigilance."

I pull her closer, relishing the feel of her skin against mine. "We all wear masks to protect ourselves," I say softly. "But maybe it's time to let someone in."

She looks at me, conflict swirling in the depths of her eyes. "Easier said than done," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Perhaps we can start by being honest with each other," I suggest, my tone sincere. It's a calculated risk, this offer of vulnerability. But I know Devin well enough by now to see the lie in her eager nod, the insincerity in her quick agreement.

"No more half-truths," I propose, watching her face carefully. "No more evasion."

"Agreed," she concedes, but I catch the slight tightening around her eyes, the almost imperceptible tension in her jaw. She's lying, and we both know it.

As we settle back into bed, a supposed new understanding between us, I find myself analyzing every word, every gesture. Devin thinks she's won this round, that she's placated me with promises of honesty. But I've spent a lifetime reading people, deciphering the language of body and breath. She's an open book to me, every page screaming of secrets yet untold.

I pull her closer, my hand splaying possessively across her stomach. She melts into me, her body betraying what her words won't. This push and pull between us, this dance of truth and lies—it's intoxicating. Dangerous. Addictive.

"I've been used to handling things alone," I murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver in response. "It's not easy for me to rely on others."

"You're not the only one," Devin responds softly, her fingers intertwining with mine. "Maybe we can learn together."

I smile in the darkness, knowing she can't see the predatory edge to it. "I'd like that," I say, sealing the words with a kiss that's equal parts promise and threat.